


Great Balls of Fire

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, Humor, M/M, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:50:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair go to a '50s dance.  Jim is surprised by Blair's costume.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Great Balls of Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after TSbyBS, but doesn't have any spoilers. I was forced to write this after my sister and I found ourselves busting out laughing every time we heard the song title. So this is for Sue and Jerry Lee Lewis and Men on Film. If you don't like the story, just sing out "Hated it!"

## Great Balls of Fire

by Roxanne

Author's webpage: <http://www.angelfire.com/ga4/garett/senslash.htm>

Author's disclaimer: I stole the characters and the title and I'm not one bit sorry about it.

* * *

 **GREAT BALLS OF FIRE**  
By Roxanne 

"Who's idea was this stupid 50s dance anyhow?" 

Blair cringed whenever Jim's voice hit that certain pitch the manly detective only reserved for whining. It didn't come out often, but when it did, it was like fingernails on a chalkboard. Blair did have to smile though. There just wasn't anything cuter than super cool Jim Ellison, cop of the year, trying to don the apparel of a nerd. The Sentinel sniffed again at the shirt Blair had picked up at the thrift shop. 

"You washed these things, didn't you? This smells musty. I'm not wearing clothes that smell musty." 

"Of course I washed them," Blair replied calmly. 

"It doesn't smell like it. If I break out from something on this shirt, you're going to pay for it, I guarantee it. I know ways to kill a man with nothing more than a belt buckle." 

The Guide gave his roommate a withering look, then responded. 

"Look, Jim. It's for charity. Just butch up and get dressed. It's not like you're the only one having to wear a goofy costume tonight." 

Grumbling something only Sentinels could hear, Jim paused his dressing to give Blair the finger. Satisfied with his clever comeback, he resumed buttoning the shirt, then opened the snap on the baggy plaid pants Blair had borrowed from his friend Eddie and tucked the tails in. While sliding a skinny belt through the wide pants loops, Jim wandered towards the kitchen in search of disinfectant to spray in the used saddle shoes. 

"No, no! That's not it at all," Blair groaned as he grabbed Jim by the shirtsleeve. "Here, let me." 

Jim stood in stunned silence as Blair unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the tails free of his pants. The Guide rebuttoned the shirt, missing one of the holes, so the shirt bunched and gapped in the middle of Jim's stomach. Pleased with his handiwork, Blair began to loosely shove the tails down into the waistband. Once the shirt was bunched to his satisfaction, he unzipped Jim's pants and stuck his hand in the fly. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jim growled at the younger man. 

"Just this," Blair smirked as he pulled a bit of the shirttail out and caught it in the partially zipped pants. 

"Don't get all excited, man. That shirt's the only thing you've got in there that I'm interested in." 

"What's the matter, Chief? Afraid of what you mind find?" 

The blush that covered Blair's face was obscured by the curtain of hair that fell forward as he suddenly become conscious of the sudden need to retie his tennis shoes. Jim let a smirk of triumph cover his face as he headed into the kitchen. There weren't many times he could shock his friend like that and it felt really good. 

By the time he returned with Lysol in hand, Blair was back in his room stuffing something in his backpack. Jim caught a flash of pink, but couldn't imagine what Blair had that would be that color. Turning up his hearing to catch his Guide's grumbling, Jim chuckled at the always loquacious ramblings. 

"... so hard for someone who wears white socks with a dress suit to look like a nerd ..." 

"I heard that!" 

"Can you hear this?" came the answering response. 

Jim strained to listen to what he could only imagine was the noise it made to raise one finger into the air. 

"It's gonna be a long night," the Sentinel muttered under his breath as he doused the shoes in cloyingly sweet, potpourri scented disinfectant spray. 

"This hardly seems fair," Jim moaned as they entered the Knights of Columbus Hall. The cavernous room was decorated like a high school gym decked out for prom night. Crepe paper streamers billowed in the breeze while helium filled balloons floated among the rafters. The walls were covered with old 45s and blow-ups of high school yearbook photos. A group of girls decked out in taffeta prom dresses were dancing to Roy Orbison with grown men dressed like 50s biker punks. 

Blair was already bouncing to the beat as Jim laid a hand on the small of his back and guided him into the party. Still dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, the younger man smiled broadly and turned to grab his partner's arm. 

"Oh god Jim, this is going to be so much fun." 

"Yeah, fun for you. You don't look like an idiot. I can't believe I'm wearing this shit. By the way, these glasses are giving me a headache." 

With that he stabbed the horn-rimmed glasses, taped together in the center, up his nose. Blair had popped the lenses out, so he nearly poked himself in the eye with the gesture. His partner's giggle did nothing at all to help his mood. 

"Jim were you always this big of a pain in the ass or did it take years to perfect your technique?" Blair asked, undaunted by the murderous glower from his roommate. 

Before Jim could even think of a comeback, Rhonda appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Blair's hand. 

"There you are! We've got to get ready." 

The perky blond was wearing pedal pushers and an angora sweater that matched the blue in her eyes. She had a scarf tied around her neck and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, making her look like she was about 15 years old. Tossing Jim a hasty glance, she grinned, "Oh, hi Jim. You look cute." 

"You too," he called to the departing pair. 

Left on his own, Jim glanced around for someone else he could hang out with. The music changed to Blue Suede Shoes as Jim headed towards the buffet table. 

"Jimbo!" 

"Hey Pete. Hey Greg." 

Jim turned to greet his two old friends from Vice. They, like most of the other men in the place wore jeans turned up at the cuffs and white t-shirts. Greg had even gone the extra step of rolling a pack of cigarettes up in his shirtsleeve. Pete's black hair was greased within an inch of its life, but Greg, like Jim, was balding and wasn't about to mess with what little he had. Jim couldn't help but think he looked more like an accountant than a greaser. 

"Whoa! Who dressed you?" Greg busted out laughing. "I knew I went to high school with you! You were the kid that always carried the slide rule and ate his own boogers!" 

"Yeah, I remember you," Pete joined in. "You couldn't get out of PE without at least one guy giving you a wedgie!" 

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up comedians. You two girls aren't gonna win any beauty pageants yourselves." 

"So, where's your shadow?" Pete continued with a smirk curling his thin lips. "I hear your new partner is a little ..." 

The overweight detective flopped his wrist, placed a hand on one hip and cocked the other in a crude attempt to look effeminate. 

Jim's ice blue eyes gave new meaning to the word cold as he glared at Pete. And then in a calm voice that raised the other man's hackles, he sneered, "If you're implying that Blair is something other than a normal, red-blooded man, you're sadly mistaken. Unlike you, he practically has to beat the women off with a stick. As a matter of fact, he's probably in the cloakroom fucking your wife right now." 

Pete's jaw dropped to his chest, but the drum roll announcing the evening's entertainment drowned his stammered retort. Jim turned to face the raised platform that would serve as a stage as Captain Heuring from Narcotics took the microphone. 

"Ladies and gentlemen of Cascade P.D. Welcome to the annual Charity Sock Hop. As you all know, proceeds from this year's party are going to the Southtown Women's Center. Now, without further ado, it's my pleasure to introduce tonight's entertainment, the debut of a new singing sensation. You may know them as Rhonda Gaffney, Megan Conner and Blair Sandburg, but tonight they're performing as the Majorettes!" 

With a flourish of his hand, the captain stepped aside as the trio took the stage. In the riot of laughter that filled the hall, one small voice was heard to say, "oh shit." 

Jim stared at the stage as Rhonda, Megan and Blair stood wearing pink poodle skirts, matching angora sweaters, saddle shoes and bobby socks. Music started from a different part of the hall and the "girls" began to lip sync to Baby Love by Diana Ross and the Supremes. Their lip-syncing was perfect, their gestures were perfect, their costumes were ... 

"Oh god," Jim moaned. 

Pete sidled up to the stricken Sentinel, nudged him with his elbow and grinned, "Who'd you say was a normal, red blooded man, Jim? I guess that talk about Blair being your girlfriend wasn't so far off, was it?" 

It must have been some kind of weird reflexive response to being mocked by an asshole, because Jim's elbow just seemed to jerk back and hit Pete in the gut of its own volition. The Majorettes moved on to It's My Party by Leslie Gore as Greg helped his partner over to a folding chair as far away from Ellison as possible. Jim stayed stuck in one spot, unable to tear his eyes away from his roommate. 

And then they started to sing Be My Baby. Blair looked directly at Jim the entire time he sang ... and he was singing. His lovely baritone voice was only heard by one set of ears that night, but Jim was mesmerized by the sound. It was a little disconcerting ... hearing the masculine voice come out of that beautiful mouth, shining with glossy pink lipstick ... and Jim just continued to let his eyes pour over his roommate. 

Blair had simply parted his hair on the side and Jim could see a small barrette studded with rhinestones holding it in place. Other than the lipstick, he wore no makeup. He didn't need any. His eyes were already fringed with long, dark lashes and his skin was flawless. Must have shaved after they got to the party, Jim speculated. 

Apparently one of the girls had lent the Guide a bra because even though dark chest hair stuck out the neckline of the sweater, Blair had a really nice set of hooters on him. Jim smiled as he realized that he had smelled oranges on the drive over. Sweeping his gaze lower, he laughed out loud when he noticed that Blair had not shaved his legs. 

Blair's voice brought his eyes back up in time to catch the wink as the words of the song got personal. 

I'll make you happy, baby, just wait and see.   
For every kiss you give me I'll give you three.   
Oh, since the day I saw you   
I have been waiting for you.   
You know I will adore you til eternity. 

Jim swallowed hard as he thought about he and Blair's antics earlier in the evening. Maybe the time for flirting was over and they should just get on with whatever it was they had been dancing around. 

The song ended to thunderous applause with Jim clapping louder than anyone. The Majorettes took their bows and then left the stage. The tape started up again, playing Ricky Nelson's "Traveling Man" as Blair started to make his way to Jim. The young detective was apparently the hit of the party. As he wound through the crowd, practically every woman he came in contact with gave him a hug. Rafe stopped him to razz him, then made a grab for a breast. Blair ducked in time, then rewarded the surprised detective by pulling out an orange and tossing it to him. 

When he finally reached Jim, he'd lost the other orange, his lipstick was kissed off and he looked more adorable than ever. 

"Quite a performance, Chief," Jim grinned at his partner. "Anything you want to discuss with me later?" 

"Yeah, Jim. I'm dying to find out if you kiss on the first date." 

The Sentinel's blush heated his face as he searched for a response. Before he could say anything, Blair grabbed his hand and pulled him to the dance floor. Unchained Melody had started and couples were slow dancing to the classic. 

"The least you can do is dance with me," Blair giggled, pulling Jim close. Wrapping his arms around his friend's neck, he laid his head on Jim's shoulder and began to move with the music. 

"I'm gonna kill you, Sandburg." 

It wasn't a very convincing threat since Jim now had his hands firmly planted on Blair's ass. 

"Gonna use that weapon that's poking me in the stomach?" 

"You little smartass," Jim chided as he swayed to the beat of the song. "You just wait until we get home." 

"Your truck's closer." 

Half of Cascade P.D. watched as Jim took Blair by the hand and pulled him towards the exit. Rhonda ran for her purse. She had the list of who had what date in the office pool and she was pretty sure she came closest with 1/1/2000. 

When Jim and Blair reached the truck, Blair stood by demurely and waited for Jim to unlock and open his door. Of course, he had to stand there while Jim unlocked his side, lean over, unlock Blair's door and wait for his Guide to climb in. After a few choice words, Jim piled out, grumbled his way around the car and yanked the door open. Blair slid in and sat as close to the door as possible. He was smoothing his skirt down when Jim climbed back in. Blair was all set to play the coquette, but then Jim flashed him a smile and growled, "come here" and all thoughts of being a good girl flew out the window. 

Making out in a '69 Ford had never been like this before. Usually the women Jim dated didn't wrap themselves around his body quite so quickly. And then when he felt under their sweaters, he usually found breasts and not quite so much body hair. But the hair was right and the lips were perfect and the perfume was ... 

"Perfume, Chief?" 

Blair looked like a goldfish waiting for dinner. His head was tilted up and mouth was open and ready, but Jim pulled away when the smell of lilies of the valley threatened to send him into a zone out. 

"Wha ... Jim ... wha" 

"God, you're gorgeous when you're inarticulate," Jim smirked. "Why are you wearing perfume, Sandburg?" 

"Oh," Blair blushed now. "Megan was screwing around when we were getting ready. She shot me with some. I tried to wash it off, but that stuff's like plutonium. It's got a half life of about a million years." 

"Blair?" 

"Yeah, Jim?" 

"Shut up." 

"Okay. Jim?" 

"Blair?" 

"Will you still respect me in the morning?" 

Lifting his head from the perfect nuzzling position, Jim looked his partner squarely in the eyes and said, "Oh, baby. I'll respect you in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening and all night long. I'm gonna respect you so good that you'll have trouble sitting down for a week." 

Blair smiled so brightly that Jim figured that the whole inside of the truck lit up. 

"Good. Cause Mom always told me that men don't buy the cow when the milk is free." 

His voice dropped to a sultry whisper as he continued. 

"Jim? You gonna buy the cow?" 

"Sandburg?" Jim began. "I don't even know how to respond to that." 

"How 'bout like this." 

And in a flash, Blair was kissing Jim so hard he thought he might lose a filling or two over it. But that was a small price to pay for the pleasure of discovering how neatly Blair's ass cheeks fit in his hands and how wonderful it felt to have the younger man's hair brush against his face and how hot it made him to have his favorite detective's dick poking him in the stomach. And when Blair pulled away, Jim knew he'd never seen a more beautiful sight than the look of love on his partner's face. 

"So now what do you think," Blair whispered. There was a timid quality in his voice that Jim had never heard before. 

Jim ducked in for a quick suck of his partner's lower lip, then responded, "I think I'm ready to buy the cow, the horse ... hell, the whole damn farm Chief." 

"Oh, man," Blair groaned as he moved back in for some more lip action. "That's the most romantic I thing I've ever heard. Oh, and Jim?" 

Jim looked up into velvety blue eyes, wide and innocent. 

"Yeah baby?" 

"You know how earlier tonight I said I wasn't interested in anything in these pants except your shirt?" 

Expressive eyebrows waggled changing the younger man's look to anything but innocent. 

"Well, I lied." 

"You? Lie?" Jim mocked. "I can hardly believe that. So what exactly interests you?" 

"This," Blair said as he slid off his partner's lap to crouch between Jim's legs. 

With a skill that Jim would never have thought Blair possessed, the Guide caught the zipper of Jim's pants between his teeth and tugged it down. Then with a hand firmly placed on each thigh, he dove in and began to mouth the bulge pushing up and out of the plaid pants. 

"Holy shit!" 

Jim sunk his two hands into he curls that were conveniently placed in his lap and bucked his hips up to meet the clever lips that were sucking the head of his dick through its cotton barrier. Heat was seeking heat as Jim's erection grew towards the sizzling warmth of Blair's mouth. Then the Guide's nimble tongue pushed the drenched cloth aside and Jim groaned as the head of his cock was immersed in liquid heat. 

He was just sure that Blair was down there smirking at his ability to reduce his Sentinel to a puddle of melted jello but it didn't matter much, cause he was happy melted jello. Whatever it was Blair was doing down there just felt so damn good. And then it stopped. 

"Take it out," Blair ordered softly. His breath caressed the tender flesh, making it swell even more. 

Jim quickly moved to obey. Blair raised his head and looked his lover in the eyes as Jim fumbled with opening the button on his trousers. He started to push his pants and briefs down, but Blair put a hand on his to stop him. 

"No. Pull it out through the flap." 

Jim's hands shook as he once again obeyed the softly spoken words. Gripping the base of his throbbing dick, he gently pulled it out through the Y-front. 

"Stroke it." 

Sliding his hand up the swollen shaft, Jim shuddered as he reached the crown. Smearing the pre-come that had leaked out over the head, Jim let his hand slowly descend until it was once again resting at the base. Blair watched his leisurely hand movements with glittering eyes. Over and over, Jim stroked up, circled the head and stroked back down. 

"Faster." 

Jim's strokes increased in tempo in direct relation to Blair's breathing, which was now coming in quick, sharp gasps. His hand was a blur as it worked the hot flesh, squeezing and rubbing faster and faster. Breathing harshly through his mouth, Jim began to pat the head of his dick with his left hand. Blair licked his lips, but just watched as Jim's orgasm approached. When it was so close that the Sentinel's whole body began to quiver, Blair tightened his grip on Jim's thighs. 

"Stop." 

Once again obeying the direct command, Jim broke the rhythm and clasped the base of his cock to keep from coming. He wasn't sure what Blair was going to tell him to do next, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he'd do it. Jim's eyes never left Blair's as the younger man rose up, lifted that ridiculous pink poodle skirt and pulled his own cock free. The picture was so oddly erotic that Jim had to grip himself harder to keep from coming right then. 

Blair's mouth was slightly open and his tongue slipped out to again wet his amazing lips. His nostrils flared with undisguised lust and the faint scent of pheromones drifted from every pore. Jim had never been so turned on in his life as his lover gently pushed his knees together and sat down straddling his lap. The position put Blair's own pulsing cock lying against Jim's. 

"Kiss me." 

Jim brought both hands up to pull Blair against him and kiss him like there was no tomorrow. His hands cupped his Guide's ass as their hips began to move together. The close quarter humping created a delicious friction as their dicks slid against each other. It was like high school all over again for Jim ... the urgency, the excitement, the fear of discovery. The sensation was exhilarating and erotic and couldn't last much longer. And then Blair tore his mouth away and spoke. 

"Come for me." 

And Jim did. And so did Blair. Hard and long. Ribbons of cum jetted up between them, soaking their clothes. The smell of raw sex filled the cab of the truck as their exhaled breaths fogged the windows. 

In the distance, Jim could hear the sock hop winding down. Megan and Rhonda were giggling about the high school pictures of their colleagues. Simon had stepped outside to have a cigar. It's scent mingled gently with aroma of lovemaking that surrounded the two lovers, familiar and comforting in it's own right. Joel was slow dancing with Rafe's girlfriend. Jim could hear the soft shuffle of his leather soled shoes slide across the dance floor. Robin was whispering secrets about Rafe's kissing style to the older man while the oblivious detective sat on a folding chair and combed more Brylcream through his hair. 

In Jim's lap was one very sated Guide. 

"God, I love you Jim," Blair murmured into Jim's neck. 

"The feeling's mutual, Chief." 

Hearing more footsteps on the gravel parking lot, Jim shifted the weight in his lap and tried to dig for his keys. 

"Come on baby." 

Jim coaxed his armful over into the passenger seat. Blair immediately snuggled back up next to his Sentinel. 

"Time to go home. We've got a farm to tend to. Seems like I now own one curly-headed cow." 

"Jim?" 

Blair's eyelashes fluttered at his lover. 

"What baby?" 

"You are so full of shit!" 

"And you are one sexy little heifer. Now let's go home." 

**END**


End file.
